Planet Wayne
by TheFirstAvenger21
Summary: What if Superman landed in Gotham City? What if he was raised by the Waynes? A different take on DC's biggest heroes, and what the world would look like if they grew up as brothers. (Not sure what genre to call this- an AU but other than that it has elements of everything)
1. Chapter 1

The Gotham City skyline glittered and glowed on what was meant to be a perfectly normal evening in the bustling metropolis. Thomas and Martha Wayne stood in front of Wayne Manor, a little way off from the big city, admiring the view of the place they had decided to call home. Bruce was finally asleep inside, after an almost 2-hour battle to get him to bed. _For a three-year-old, the boy had an amazing amount of energy. He'll be just like his father someday_ , Martha thought, smiling. _Even Alfred was finding him a bit hard to handle._

A bright light in the sky caught Thomas' eye. He raised his wine glass, thinking it a shooting star. That is, until he realized with a jolt that it was getting bigger, and bigger, becoming almost comet-like. He was transfixed, ignoring Martha's frantic tugging on his arm and insistence that it was headed right for them. The projectile kept coming, getting closer and closer until it was right on top of them, and the Waynes could see the thing shooting through the sky. They watched in awe as it soared right over the mansion and landed out of sight with a loud thud. The Waynes stood in shock as they saw Alfred emerging from inside, likely woken by the commotion. After filling Alfred in on what had transpired, the three stood for a minute, contemplating the fact that a meteor had just landed in their backyard, before swiftly moving to investigate.

They came to the crash site and abruptly froze. The thing was unlike anything they had ever seen before. It was smoking, small tendrils of steam rolling off the sleek silver metal. It looked like a pod, the kind one would see in science fiction films, and it was now lying in the middle of Martha's azaleas. The metal… thing, had a strange symbol etched into the metal. They moved closer to get a better look, and saw that it was not unlike a large letter S encased in a pentagon shape.

The Waynes were transfixed. A mysterious object had fallen out of the sky and landed in their backyard, and it looked like something had built it. This was no meteor. The Waynes moved a bit closer, Thomas considering reaching out to touch it. Before he could though, the three heard a small _click_ come from inside the object, and suddenly the latch was opening slowly. As the hatch opened, Martha uttered a strangled little scream, and Alfred nearly fainted. Though, dignified as ever, he did his best not to show it.

Inside was a boy, no more than a newborn, sound asleep inside what seemed to be a glorified metal car seat. Or, rather, space car seat. Thomas stood in shock for a moment, realizing that this very human-looking boy had just fallen out of the sky right on their doorstep. They very slowly moved a bit closer to inspect the baby further.

"Where could he have come from…?" muttered Thomas.

"Is he… human?" asked Martha, though from the look she gave Alfred she clearly already knew the answer to that.

Alfred walked up close to the pod-like ship, despite loud warnings from both Waynes. He calmly, though with admittedly shaky hands, reached down to pick up the boy. The second his hand touched him, the metal restraints holding the infant in the ship immediately retracted, prompting a startled gasp from Thomas.

Alfred stood up, holding the now awake newborn. He stared up at the three adults with the bluest eyes they had ever seen, cooing softly and stretching. He gave a little yawn,

Martha smiled, running a hand through the boy's short black hair. "What will we call him?" she asked, looking up at her husband.

The Waynes looked on in silence for a moment at this mysterious tiny newborn from the stars, now swathed in Thomas' scarf. "Clark," Thomas said, smiling. The three looked back up at the sky for a moment, utterly shocked by what had just transpired. There was something out there, in the stars, contrary to everything they had ever thought they knew, and they had just been handed a tiny, adorable piece of it. Martha wondered just what exactly they were in for with this new child, now securely nestled in her arms.

"Not to spoil the moment, master Wayne," Alfred whispered, "But who gets the honors of explaining to master Bruce that he has a new baby brother who fell out of the sky? Because that particular task might be better left in your capable hands, I think."

Thomas took one last look at the tiny boy. "Clark Wayne. Welcome to the family little guy."

 **More chapters to come! This is just the exposition but I have WAY MORE in store for this story. Let me know what you think! I'm excited for your reactions to future chapters. Let's just say I have some stuff in store that may surprise you!**

 **Next chapter should be up in about a week!**

 **XXX- Irissa**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Meant to have this up way sooner, but it's been kind of a crazy week between school and some medical stuff that happened. The next chapter should be up much quicker though, I'm light on the schoolwork this week. Enjoy! Reviews are loved as always etc._**

 _Five Years Later_

Bruce was surprisingly smart for an eight year old, despite what his mother may think. Alfred could see that much. He could also see the looks that Bruce would give his younger brother when he wasn't looking. They were searching looks, like he could tell something wasn't quite right but couldn't describe what it was. The boy had the makings of a great detective in him.

He had taken to Clark surprisingly well, for a kid who had a baby brother seemingly appear out of nowhere. They got along as well as any siblings did, and Bruce seemed to enjoy playing the responsible big brother. Clark, for his part, adored Bruce, and Alfred would often catch him trying to mimic his mannerisms when he wasn't around. He loved Bruce's company more than anyone his own age, and he was always trying to make his older brother happy. It was rather sweet, considering most five year olds don't really do that sort of thing.

Thomas and Martha were just happy that everything was proceeding as normal. Thomas had given Clark a clean bill of health when they had found him, and since then they had done their best to keep everything about his origins a secret. They stored his ship in a secluded cavern on Wayne Manor's grounds, in a place they were sure Clark would never find. They decided to wait until the boy was older to tell him, wanting him to at least try and have a normal life. But they had their suspicions.

The first sign of anything out of the ordinary came around May. It was a day as normal as any other. Bruce was reading in the study, and Clark was playing with some toys of his while Alfred stood by, keeping an eye on them both. Clark got up and walked over to Bruce, walking into a table in the process. Before anyone could register what had happened, the glass vase had wobbled and fallen right onto Clark's arm. Alfred and Bruce heard the crash and rushed over, fearing the worst. Alfred was preparing for a trip to the hospital. They looked in fear at the boy's arm, only to see that somehow it was completely unscathed. _But that's impossible,_ mused Alfred. _At least one piece should have nicked him…_ A cold feeling was creeping up in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't deny he had been fearing something like this since Thomas and Martha adopted the boy. He couldn't have been as like us as he seemed.

Alfred saw Bruce's eyes go wide, and from the look on his face Alfred could tell he knew something was off. _The boy is nothing if not perceptive._ He was staring at his brother with an odd expression, as if he had never really seen him before. Clark was looking around, not sure why everyone was suddenly crowding around him. Alfred released the boys arm and let him go back to his toys. He glanced up at Bruce again. He had a brooding expression on his face not unlike his father, and Alfred could practically hear the gears turning. He sighed. He supposed this would have to come out of the woodwork sooner or later. He just prayed that the boy wouldn't put two and two together just yet. At least, not until he had a long talk with Thomas and Martha.

 _A few months after that…_

The Waynes walked out of the Monarch Theater into the cold winter air, talking animatedly about what they had just seen. Thomas could see, though, that Bruce wasn't joining in as much. The boy had been acting oddly since that day Clark narrowly avoided the hospital, peering at him as if he were a specimen to be studied. He was becoming slightly more brooding than usual, though he was careful not to show it. There had been a couple of close calls between then and now; Clark had fallen on things, broken things that should have gotten him seriously injured but somehow didn't. He had walked away unscathed, and it was becoming harder and harder to explain away the mysterious circumstances to Bruce. The last time they had taken Clark to a doctor, the needle wouldn't pierce his flesh, no matter what the doctor did. They had to rush from the office before anyone found out what was really going on. He knew the day was coming when he would have to tell Bruce, and perhaps even Clark some of the story, but he hoped he could put it off for a little bit longer.

Clark was going to be a fine young man one day, Thomas mused as he glanced at the little boy holding onto his mother's hand. He had the makings of a boy scout- always nice and polite (as much as a five year old could be), and he adored his brother. He looked up to him immensely, and had taken to mimicking some of his qualities- occasionally copying his searching expression and taking to spending more time than most young children would in the library curled up with a book. Bruce would help explain what he didn't understand, enjoying the look on Clark's face as he did so.

They turned into an alley after Thomas mentioned that it would be a shortcut. The boys were anxious to get home; they liked the play, but it was a bit frightening for Bruce. They hadn't gone far when a man started walking towards them from the opposite direction. The Waynes paid him no mind, though Martha did pull Clark slightly closer to her left side than he was before. The man came closer, and Thomas was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the man stopped in front of them, whipping out a gun and pointing it directly at his head.

Martha let out a startled gasp, and narrowly refrained from screaming after a stern look from the guy as he swiveled the gun over to her.

"Give me your money, now!" The guy looked way too panicked to be a pro, and must have been an average joe, just desperate for some cash. Thomas had worked his whole life to help people like him.

"Take it easy, alright guy? No one needs to get hurt, he said, ever the reasonable one. "Martha, give him what he wants." He looked at his terrified wife, who had shoved Clark and Bruce behind her in one motion. She nodded.

Thomas reached in his pocket for his wallet, holding his other had up in a gesture of surrender. "Just take it easy."

Bruce was shaking. He stood mostly behind his mother, watching her reach for her pearls and his father his wallet. _He'll leave once they give him the money._ He tried to move, but he was frozen to the spot. He glanced at Clark. The boy was scared, but less so than if he had been old enough to understand what was happening. Bruce grabbed his hand, trying to calm him down. If he screamed, they were all done for. He was young, but not that young.

He watched his father's slow movements, still attempting to talk to the man. It seemed like it was going to go without a hitch, until Clark tried to step out from behind Martha.

She screamed, and then he heard nothing but a loud BANG. Bruce's eyes widened. _No, no, no…_ A second bang. Thomas was on his knees, coughing up blood and faceplanting onto the floor. Martha followed. The man was running away. It all happened so fast… this couldn't be happening. Not now. Not like this. Clark was screaming, crying, trying to shake Martha awake. The pool of dark red liquid was getting stronger. Bruce started screaming too.

That was how Jim Gordon found crime alley ten minutes later. Two boys, kneeling in suits drenched in fresh blood, hands covered in it, screaming at the top of their lungs, sobbing over their mother and father.

 **(Ik I channeled adult clark and bruce a bit but how can you not? also, I tried to do the Waynes death justice but I'm sorry if I didn't.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter done! Not sure how I feel about this one- I needed a cool way to transition between young Clark/Bruce and old Clark/Bruce and this was the result. Enjoy! Reviews are loved as always**

Bruce usually spent his Sundays in his father's study, and today was no exception. Alfred found him poring over a book on international conglomerates-heavy reading material for most fifteen year olds, but not for young master Wayne.

The boy had changed quite a bit in the past seven years. He wore the same sullen, brooding expression more often than not (a trait he inherited from his father, but one he seemed to have adopted full time), and he didn't seem to delight in the same exploits his peers did. He preferred instead to read, to learn all he could before his eventual takeover of his father's enterprise. The boy could go to Harvard business school, even at this age. He became nothing if not driven, striving to be both physically and mentally fit. And it didn't help that his relationship with his brother had soured almost completely.

Outwardly, the two were cordial, though they didn't seem to enjoy the closeness they once did. Alfred had gotten the story of that fateful night from Bruce, and he had his suspicions that on some level, he blamed the boy for their parents' deaths. He would never say as much, but it was in the way his expression would almost imperceptibly harden every time Clark so much as mentioned their names. It was in the way that Bruce treated his brother with a thin layer of condescension and contempt, even if the younger boy was too light-hearted to realize it.

 _And it doesn't help that the cat's out of the bag now either,_ Alfred mused. Though they always knew there was something off about Clark, it had been growing much more profound in the past few years. The lad could lift things no ordinary boy, or man for that matter, could lift. Sometimes he would be in and out of a room so fast it was almost impossible to see him. And he would sometimes hear things that no ordinary person should hear from that far away. Bruce knew it, too. He was never a believer in science fiction, but he knew something was not as it should be.

Clark, for his part, knew something was wrong too. He was twelve, though, and like most twelve-year-old boys, he wasn't terribly bothered by it. The boy was the quintessential boy scout. He never let anything keep him down, even after the Waynes died. He was too good-natured to become sullen and moody like his brother, instead choosing to spend his time getting a normal childhood. Or, as normal as one boy could get as an alien child raised in an obscenely wealthy household

Clark's… differences, hardened the brothers' relationship even further. Bruce already blamed the boy on some level for the events of that night, and now that Clark was becoming so extraordinary, he came to resent him further. He wasn't foolish enough to want powers for himself, but he didn't understand why his brother had them and he did not. He had his suspicions about Clark's actual parentage, but, like the savvy businessman he was striving to become, he kept his opinions to himself.

He was careful not to alienate the boy entirely. Clark was so happy, so kind, and always looking for a friend. So Bruce became just that. He kept his distance, preferring to absorb himself in study, but he made sure to stay close enough that Clark wouldn't know something was amiss. And when Clark started becoming stranger by the day, Bruce made sure to use this to his advantage. He would make use of his brother's gifts in subtle ways- ask Clark to run a tiny errand here and there, and the boy was none the wiser. He did it gladly, always happy to help.

Yes, maybe it was wrong, but after all, the way to run a successful business is to know your assets. And Bruce definitely knew he had… something… to work with.

* * *

Six years later, and Clark's gifts had grown into something neither he, nor Bruce could have anticipated. Flying, super strength, super speed… this was something that he couldn't wrap his head around. But he took it in stride. He knew he needed to be prepared for anything, and that included the fateful day that Alfred took them into a secluded building on the mansion grounds and revealed Clark's true nature to them both. The younger Wayne had stayed shut in his room for days after that, refusing to come out or talk to anyone. When he emerged, he was still the same good-natured boy he always was, but Bruce could tell something had changed in him. Something that could never change back.

Bruce had spoken with him a few weeks after that. He did what any good big brother would do. He told him everything was going to be fine, that he would still have his brother no matter what. _Don't let this break you,_ he had said. _Use it._ And, my word, he had.

Bruce helped him with the suit. The symbol found on the ship that brought him here, combined with the subject of the opera that killed their parents. Clark's gifts complemented by the best body mods Wayne Enterprise's Research and Development team had to offer. A little black spray paint.

The Batman was born.


	4. Chapter 4

**I AM SO SO SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER. I have literally no time to write these days. But I hope you like it!**

Word spread in Gotham City like wildfire these days. It was impossible to keep anything hidden, let alone a caped vigilante. The people talked, of course, but it was just rumors at first. Someone saw something they couldn't explain. A couple of goons dropped off at the GCPD with injuries they shouldn't have had. And old Roger Jenkins just _swore_ to Sergeant Gordon that he saw some guy flying away from a crime scene. People didn't know what to think about it.

But this was Gotham City. Crime was a fact of life. The people had more important things to think about. Like their prodigal son finally ascending to the throne.

At twenty-one years old, the young Wayne was finally able to take the helm of his father's company. The press was having a field day- two stories like this at the same time? It was like Christmas had come early. The young man was strikingly handsome too, so like his father some thought it actually _was_ him. Photos were snapped, microphones attempted to shove past bodyguards to get a soundbite from the young heir, but the doors closed in front of Wayne Tower with a loud bang, and the press went back to chasing the masked man.

Bruce sat in some board room or another on one of the top floor of Wayne Tower. The air conditioning was up too high, and the Board of Directors meeting was running long. They wanted to talk strategy for this quarter- something about profits being down 7% Bruce assured them all not to worry, that he would restore this company to it's former glory under his father, that he would not rest until Wayne Enterprises was the pinnacle of industry that it used to be. As they gave him a round of applause and told him his father would be proud of him, he smirked.

He always did have a way with words.

It was two weeks later that all hell broke loose.

The rumors had been flying for weeks. Some guy dressed as a bat, only attacking at night, taking the law into his own hands. Beating up bad guys and dropping them off in front of the GCPD. Reports were piling up that all contradicted each other- that he could fly, that he could lift cars and punch through walls, that he was just really good at martial arts, that he was bulletproof, that he was just a kid. No one knew the truth. The cops had been trying to keep a lid on it for weeks, scrambling to figure out what was going on. They were in over their heads, and they knew it. No one knew what to think.

The truth came out one grainy, stormy night on a street corner in Park Row. A couple of low life thugs were mugging some poor sod who just happened to be walking home one night on the wrong side of town. The guys were too busy pounding into the guy to hear the swooshing noise of the cape behind them. Before they could react, they found themselves hoisted up in the air, thrown against a wall. Trying to fight back only resulted in a broken hand. A couple of minutes later, they found themselves tied together, being carried to the GCPD. And no one would have known about it if some kid hadn't gotten a video of it.

The news broke the next morning. Bruce sat at the dining room table in Wayne Manor watching a video of his brother flying through Gotham with a couple of thugs in tow, using his powers in plain view. _Well this makes things difficult, doesn't it._ He sighed. Clark was still sleeping, recovering from the previous night. It was a bit of an inconvenience that the boy slept all the time- it made it difficult to keep him in the public eye.

He made his way upstairs to Clark's bedroom and knocked, before opening the door and entering anyway. The room was pitch-dark, the way an 18 year old boy liked it to be in the morning hours, this one more than most. He smirked before opening the curtain roughly, prompting an aggravated groan from the sleeping teen.

"You know, some of us have to work for a living," Clark said, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"You made the news last night. Someone filmed you."

"What? Well… I guess it was going to happen sooner or later. Is that a good thing or bad thijng?" He eyed Bruce warily, gaging his reaction.

"A bit of both. It makes our lives harder now that people know that you're out there. But I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later."

Clark sat up in bed. "What do I do now? Do I show myself? Tell them who I am?"

Bruce frowned. An alien in Gotham City… that could be good for business. But bad for the rest. "Not yet. Let me think about it."

"Whatever you say, boss. I'm going back to sleep." He smiled before rolling over. Before long he was snoring again, and Bruce slowly backed out of the room.

 _The cat's really out of the bag now._ But what did he expect? You couldn't have an alien superhero in Gotham without someone noticing it eventually. And Clark's powers were never going to be a secret forever. The question was how to spin it. There had to be a way to work it out in a profitable way. He would protect the boy, of course. But he would protect himself first. _Oh yes,_ he mused. _This is going to be fun._

 **Next chapter should be coming soon! Enjoy. Reviews are loved as always :)**


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